the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 3: The Fifth Miss, the Taboo of the Entire Leclair F

The launch event for the Republic District-era drama *Splendor* was held in Northern Town, forrly the French Concession. In recent years, the area has been designated a cultural district, complented by surrounding historic architecture, making it an ideal location for filming. The first scene of *Splendor* was shot here.

Delphine and Jason arrived to find the cultural district packed to the brim; one side was crowded with fans holding support signs, while the other was sward with security personnel and a swarm of black-suited bodyguards. Even the production crew was stuck outside.

"Let go check things out. You just stay here and wait for ." Jason, sporting an eager look, rushed off to gather information.

"I heard soone from the top is inspecting today. The streets have been sealed for two hours."

"So the crew's launch ceremony has to be postponed?"

"We're lucky they didn't kick us out. But I've got insider intel—today's guest holds an extraordinary status."

"Oh, isn't that Delphine, that little tramp?"

"A no-na model like her won't make it big in her lifeti. Why waste your attention on her?"

Delphine narrowed her eyes, glancing at the two influencer-faced won she vaguely recognized. Frowning slightly, she rembered they were artists from the sa company.

The crowd suddenly grew restless. Black-suited bodyguards surged out of the cultural district, forcing fans and production crew mbers behind the safety lines.

Shrieks erupted within the fan crowd the mont several identical black Bentleys rolled out from the cultural district. Their glaring license plates sent chills down everyone's spine. Instinctively retreating, Delphine was abruptly shoved from behind. She had worn her only pair of high heels today, and the push threw her off balance, sending her tumbling forward—straight toward the incoming black Bentley.

Brakes screeched as the Bentley ca to an abrupt halt, narrowly avoiding her. Dazed from the fall, Delphine looked up just in ti to catch sight of bodyguards flooding toward her like a tidal wave. She imdiately felt the urge to curse.

A fiery pain shot through her knee, her high heel snapped, and her ankle appeared to be sprained. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the broken shoe and coldly addressed the approaching bodyguards: "Tell the owner not to worry, I'm not extorting anyone."

Inside the Bentley, a man studying a report caught the commotion and frowned slightly. His low, commanding voice rang out: "Go check it out."

The assistant swiftly exited the car, surveying the chaotic scene in front of him, and froze upon catching sight of Delphine standing in front of the Bentley. He hesitated for a brief mont before returning to the car, leaning in and speaking softly: "Mr. Leclair, it seems to be Miss Delphine."

The man, who had been focused on the report, paused sharply upon hearing this. His deep-set, piercing eyes narrowed abruptly. Lifting his face, he revealed a strikingly handso and aristocratic countenance, though his expression gave away neither joy nor anger.

The assistant, Maximilian, imdiately clamped his mouth shut, cold sweat running down his back. Damn it—how could he have forgotten? Even if this particular Miss Delphine died out in the streets, her na was one he should never ntion. She was a taboo topic within the entire Leclair Family. How had she returned to the South Seas?

"Let's go." The man's voice was low and indifferent, his tone devoid of warmth. Tossing the report to the side, Ignatius Leclair gazed out the window at Delphine's limping figure. His expression was as deep and unfathomable as an ancient well—chilling, yet distant.

Delphine's fall hadn't been severe; her knee was scraped with a few visible marks. It wasn't serious, but the pain was still sharp.

As expected, whatever occupant was inside the Bentley allowed her through without issue.

"Delphine, do you know who was sitting in that car just now?" Jason, buzzing with excitent after gathering the news, sprinted over and shouted with gleaming eyes.

"Who was it?" she asked plainly while rubbing her sore ankle. Then, picking up the other high heel, she broke off the heel to make do with a pair of makeshift flats.

"The Crown Prince of the Leclair Family—soone who even the Four Young Lords of the South Seas bow to. Most of the cultural district here is his property," Jason rambled on excitedly. "I didn't see him with my own eyes, but I'm certain it was him. Who else could warrant such an extravagant display—blocking off all the roads for hours?"

Delphine's hands paused. Her expression shifted slightly. Ignatius Leclair? Was the occupant in the Bentley Ignatius Leclair?